


Mile Deep Hollow

by LadyEvelette



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEvelette/pseuds/LadyEvelette
Summary: Arthur Fleck meets an aspiring blind pianist on a bus who doesn't seem disturbed by his maniacal laugh. She, in turn, is enamored by the fact that he knows who Dean Martin is without having to consult his grandparents. So what will happen between them as the world begins to burn?





	1. Musician Meets Joker

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for taking an interest in this newest little earworm of mine! This is going to be a bit of a slow burn that jumps between modern-day and the past to keep things interesting. This version of the Joker isn't really dead set canon with any of the wonderful portrayals and if anything will wind up being the love child of Heath Ledger and Jaoquin Phoenix's versions. That being said, there is heavy influence from the wonderful movie Joker and as always, I own nothing but my OC, Bonnie. Welcome to the show!

Motionless and silent under the gaze of a thousand eyes, she was a doll. Pretty, porcelain and entirely out of reach. It wasn't the darkening of the theater. It wasn't the fidgeting of the audience. It wasn't the rich smell of cologne or perfume that costed more than some made in a year. It wasn't even the announcer bellowing her name or the deafening roar of the applause. It was the heat, the raw physicality of so many spotlights trained on the small blonde that suddenly brought her to life and as her head lifted, her arms raised and her fingers settled upon the ivory keys, most of the crowd grew silent and still.

Unlike the audience, a slew of Gotham's finest dressed in the latest designer gowns, the woman seated behind the piano wore a simplistic black gown that caressed gentle curves and flared in modest elegance around her calves. It wasn't hand-stitched, no diamonds or jewels were embedded in the onyx fabric, it was simply something that accentuated the lithe build of her frame but would never compare to the impeccable gowns sprinkled throughout the audience. Whispers instantly riffled through the crowd at her lack of appropriate attire, a screaming obscenity since the spotlight was now trained on her. She could hear the cady remarks and repressed the urge to smile. A good thing then, that she hadn't been paid for her fashion sense. 

A few notes sprinkled across the keys in a traditional ragtime special turned the sharp haughtiness into soft peels of laughter. Ah, the pianist had a sense of humor... well then, perhaps she wasn't entirely helpless. Letting the notes fade out she paused and settled into the set she'd been hired to perform. Classical favorites of the swinging '30's and '40's. Her specialty, her favorites, her era. Dulcet tones joined the serenading piano and by the time she'd moved from Frank Sinatra to Billie Holiday and on to Glenn Miller, most people were transfixed on her musical talent and not on her lack of a brand name dress... or at least that was the lie she told herself. 

The set was hand-selected, a medley of fast-paced swinging hits softened by love ballads and tragedies intermingled. The pianist came alive under the soft lights enthralled by the music she'd grown to adore and knowing it would always hold a treasured place within her heart. When the set came to close and the final few chords of the last song reverberated from the piano, a nearly overwhelming sadness graced her heart. Would she ever feel those lovely keys beneath the brush of her fingertips again or would this be her final symphony? The applause was lovely but haunting and fatally final. The spotlights dimmed, the curtain dropped and as the intense heat from the lights abandoned her, the woman resumed her slumped complacency as a motionless marionette. Her usefulness was at an end and yet... her evening was far from over. 

Beyond the muffled curtain she could hear the crowd vacating the auditorium but her ears were trained on the soft but measured footsteps that slowly approached her. They weren't threatening, if anything they sounded tired, strained, it made them familiar and in a fit of cheekiness she let her fingers glide across the keys, spinning an enthusiastic version of Bruce Springsteen's Highway Patrolman. The footsteps paused, an amused chuckle filled the space between them and then the gait continued, moving around the piano with grace before the bench creaked and her admirer joined her unabashed. She stopped playing, allowing her hands to fall complacently in her lap but she didn't move beyond the simple gesture. 

“You look lovely. That rendition of Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon was especially fantastic.” The familiar voice of Gotham's beloved Commissioner Gordon, both tired and worn as it had ever been, drew her rare attention and the pianist smiled if only just. 

“Did Barbara enjoy it? I played it for her. You told me last time it was one of her favorites, I made sure to include it in the evenings set.” Even in common speech, her words flowed like trickling water, there was a soothing, empathetic quality to her that was magnetic. Good. She was pure even if her life had been tainted by tragedy. 

“Ah... she couldn't be here tonight. Tony came down with the flu and she stayed home to make sure he'd be okay. If we're being honest, I'm only here for propriety's sake. If it wasn't for the politics that these charity events bolster, I think I'd fake the flu just to stay home every time. Give me a graveyard shift any day but a monkey suit? Forget it.” The words were spoken in a joking complaint and they earned a soft, tinkling laugh from the pianist... a prize most assuredly. 

“I hope your boy recovers quickly, he's too much of a doll to be bogged down. As for the monkey suit, I'm afraid I can't help you there. It's what this social standing deems necessary and you... need all the donations you can get.” A few ominous notes tested on the ivory keys saw Gordon laughing and amicably she felt him lean against her shoulder. There was a short moment where they pretended to be dear friends, where everything was calm and easy before the tension began to crawl back between them. She was the first to put distance between them, the smile fading from her face. 

“Bonnie.” Gordon broke the tension and despite the heaviness in his tone, the pianist didn't flinch. “Talk to me and I can help you. I don't know what happened between you but I promise I'll understand.” A whisper, barely audible even to her sharp ears and yet it was nearly a roar. The auditorium was empty now and the silence hung like a guillotine. Her lips thinned and she inclined her head towards him slightly and let the smallest, bitter smile curl the edge of her mouth. 

“Nothing leaves us quite as vulnerable as loneliness.” Her voice finally trickled back and with an impressive amount of poise, she rose, gliding her fingers along the edge of the piano until they caught on a cane, cleverly concealed by the leg of the beautiful instrument. She tightened her grip on the handle, winding the strap around her wrist and shifting to tap the small ball at the end against the stage, taking pleasure in the unique echo of the acoustics. This would be the last time. Gordon hadn't come expecting a confession, it was his own way of warning her, she turned to leave, the steady tap of her cane guiding her towards the edge of the stage when Gordon's voice called out to her. 

“They're going to arrest you. The charge won't stick, there's nothing concrete in persuasion or suspicion but it'll be enough to keep you for a time. They'll put you in public lock up and I can't stop it, all of this is above my pay grade but... they'll kill you in there. He's got too many enemies and you're branded or at least that's the rumor in the underground.” A pause. “But if you talk to me, if you give me something, anything, I can get you into witness protection. I just want to help you Bonnie but you've gotta help yourself first.”It was almost a plea and it rang with such a heartfelt honesty that the pianist stopped and twisted so she faced the curtain of the stage. For a moment she seemed to almost consider the words and the Commissioner felt a flare of hope. 

“If you think you're about to catch him, it's because he wants you to think that. Don't fool yourself into thinking he's not in control.” Her voice never lost that lyrical quality and Gordon rose swiftly, the piano bench clattering against the stage harsh enough to make her flinch, even still she kept going before he could interrupt. “I appreciate everything you've done for me, don't think I am ungrateful but you'll never catch him. He is smoke, water, unobtainable matter, an idea. He won't be caught. If you want to, you'd have to kill him and I cannot help you with that.” Even with the threat of prison looming over her, she did not lose her composure and while distressed, Gordon would begrudgingly admire that inner strength.

“So instead you'll take the pyre in his place?” Gordon regretted the harshness of the words as soon as they left his mouth... but we couldn't bring himself to take them back. The truth wasn't always pretty. She smiled, acceptance etched in the weary lines of her face.

“Goodnight Gordon, go home, see your boy. You don't need to be apart of the mob or the chaos. You've endured enough pain for this city.” She murmured softly, her words bleeding empathy before she turned and vanished into the darkness of the back lot. Gordon didn't answer and his footsteps didn't follow, not that she expected him too. She wasn't his to save. Bonnie slipped through the back door, the errant tapping of her cane guiding her path before she stepped onto the main strip and hailed a taxi.

She gave her address, repeated it again for good measure and sighed as the driver questioned it anyway before ultimately depositing her at a rather worn-down apartment complex in the Penguin's stretch of town. She stepped out, the light tapping of her cane guiding her over the familiar cracked sidewalk and crouched down just outside her building. A homeless gentleman peered up from his empty tin can and grinned at her.

“Well evenin' Miss G, where ya off too all dolled up like that? Ya didn't get all prettied up fer me did ya?” Warm and friendly, the voice teased her senses and Bonnie rummaged through her purse, looking for the fare she'd snagged from the kitchens. 

“Only ever for you Lenny, don't you know you hold my heart?” Her voice rolled back to him, the shameless flirting harmless as she fished out the lobster roll wrapped up in napkins and offered it to him. “Shh. Don't say I never treat you right, not every man gets hand-delivered lobster from a lady.” She winked at him and he eagerly took her offering with grateful praise. “Go on Lenny, it's about to get real noisy here in a bit and I want you to enjoy that lobster. Come back in the morning yeah?” A Vietnam veteran with severe post-traumatic stress disorder didn't need to be anywhere near a goddamn raid.

“Everything alright Bon? No ones coming for you are they? I can sleep on your couch, I'll keep the damn dogs at bay.” She could hear the moment he went from playful to soldier. An old habit no doubt and while she hated lying to him, she didn't want him involved.

“Why would they come for me? Don't be silly. I'm no more of a threat then that lobster you're enjoying now. Just got a tip that two of the gangs are clashing somewhere in this area and I don't want my best man getting caught in the crosshairs.” She winked at him for good measure and stood back up. “Stay safe Len and get out of this cold!” She left him at the corner and moved to the front of the building... where a loudspeaker crackled and the sound of ominous clicks informed her that the raid was already here and waiting. She stopped. 

“Drop the cane and put your hands behind your head.” The voice crackled with a raw intensity that saw the small pianist obeying without question but even still- “Get on your knees.” They were so intense, one would think she was part of America's most wanted instead of a blind musician. Bonnie lifted her arms and slowly lowered herself down. It was awkward with the dress she was wearing and she felt one of the seams pop but she obeyed even as she itched to grab her discarded cane. That was her lifeline, without it she was helpless, even more so than she already was and the thought of them taking it away... a series of footsteps stomped for her and the loudspeaker crackled to life, reading her Miranda rights. By this point, a crowd was gathering and whispers shot through the crowd, drowning out the footsteps. One of the officers grabbed her non-too gently and then... gunfire. 

Heavy, ominous, rapid, a semi-automatic. The officer released her and instinctively she shielded her head with her arms and dropped, hitting the concrete with a thud. She couldn't tell where it was coming from, the screams from the crowd and the shouts from the officers scrambled her sense of perception. She just hoped that Gordon had listened and gone home... because it didn't matter who won, no one was leaving this fight unscathed. Hell, she might not even leave it alive. She pressed her palms to her ears, attempting to drown out the roar of gunfire. One way or another it would be over soon and to the victor would go the spoils. 

~~

A light hum trickled from her throat both soft and nearly inaudible. Annoyance flashed through her as the errant tapping of her cane disrupted the old-time melody but she was running late and if she slowed to sync the rhythm, she'd miss the bus completely. Her resolution was to stop humming. She couldn't stand to have a melody out of sync and as utterly dull as it was to navigate the smog-filled streets of Gotham's underbelly without music, better to be without than to ruin a great thing. 

The loud creak of the buses breaks hissing some fifty feet off saw her heart dropping down to her feet. She picked up the pace but didn't dare run. The sidewalks were too broken and uneven but at this rate, she'd never make it and if she was late again- a firm trot eclipsed her pace and as she got close, she could hear Lenny accosting the driver and stalling him for time. A giggle escaped her and she reached out, squeezing his arm for good measure. 

“Lenny, you're a doll. I'll bring you back a few shrimps from the cocktail lounge for this. Wait up for me tonight yeah?” She slid past him, moving through the doors and depositing her change in the slot. 

“I'll wait for you any day Miss G! Happy to help!” He hollered back at her and Bonnie giggled, blowing him a kiss. She was new to the city, a recent transfer since New York City blew right out of her price range and as strange as it sounded, that adorable little homeless man was her first friend. He'd helped her learn the area, had taught her what parts of town to avoid and which ones were okay, hell he'd even told her to try out for the Lounge gig in Penguin's part of town and all he asked for in return were some pancakes. They now had pancake Sunday's and she spoiled him rotten with every topping she could possibly afford... and that wasn't to mention the times she herded him inside because the weather was bad.

Shaking off her thoughts before the bus driver could get well and truly mad, Bonnie slid past him and into the cabin of the vehicle. Short, small taps informed her how big the isle was and she murmured apologies as her cane brushed a leg or a shoe. The driver suddenly lurched the bus forward and Bonnie stumbled, slipping and winding up splattered against the aisle. Muted laughter followed her wince of pain and an embarrassed flush colored her cheeks. She scrambled for her cane and felt a frisson of fear coil through her when she heard the metal scraping the floor of the vehicle. Someone else was picking it up. No, no. She needed that, she- the handle was lightly tapped against her palm and Bonnie grabbed it tightly, a visible wave of relief rolling over her. 

“Are you... okay?” Timid and soft, the words were broken up by small bouts of laughter and giggles. It gave Bonnie pause. The question, the tone, the gentleness with which he returned her cane all spoke to sincerity, so why was he laughing? She gripped the cane and began pushing herself back up. 

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you... is there anyone sitting next to you?” Willing to give him the benefit of the doubt largely because she didn't want to wind up back on the floor, she endured his loud, sharp laughter in exchange for a seat. It took him a moment to calm down which was awkward for everyone involved but after a moment, he seemed to find his voice. 

“No. No there's not. You can sit. Sorry. It's a condition. I laugh when I shouldn't. I can't... control it.” The words were wheezed like he was trying to catch his breath and as Bonnie slid onto the seat next to him, she considered that for a moment. She'd never heard of anything like it but she wasn't exactly a mental disorder expert now was she? She tilted her head, digesting the explanation before settling on acceptance and smiling in his general direction. 

“I wish my biggest problem was laughing inappropriately. Would you like to trade?” Light-hearted and gentle, her voice was lowered so she wouldn't disturb the other passengers but she offered her hand to the man all the same. “My name's Bonnie, what's yours?” 

There was a long pause and an even longer silence. It stretched so long that Bonnie was pretty sure he'd made up his explanation so she'd leave him alone. Ah well, there were easier ways to be isolated but some people needed the blanket excuses. She went to draw her hand back when long, dexterous fingers curled around her own with surprising strength. 

“Arthur. I'm Arthur. It's nice to meet you, Bonnie.” The words were shy but she could almost hear the smile in them so she returned it. Abruptly she was hit with the realization that this man probably didn't get many opportunities for socialization. He seemed awkward. Sweet, but incredibly lost. Hmm. Mama always said she had a tendency for collecting strays. 

“Arthur huh? I like it. Are you like Arthur Gunter, a soothing Blues melody or are you more of an Arthur Alexander with a heart built for soul?” Didn't matter if he knew the artists specifically or not. Everyone liked music. It was the thread that stitched together the skin and acted as a common link between all of humanity. This language or the next, every culture had its own brand of music. 

“Neither. I'm more of an Arthur Askey. My mom always says I was put on this earth to make people smile.” The statement was so innocent and pure that Bonnie found herself reflexively smiling. She relaxed a bit further into her seat and shifted her cane between her legs. 

“I can't think of a better reason for anyone to be here, your mom sounds like a smart lady.” Bonnie smiled and lightly bumped her shoulder against his... only to brush his bicep instead. Damn. How tall was he? “How do you know Mr. Askey anyway? I thought I was the only kid who liked anything from before 1950.” Of course, she wasn't much of a kid anymore. Twenty-seven wasn't exactly young but eh, you were only as old as you felt. 

“My mom showed me. She likes all the old game shows, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra... I like them too, but my favorites are the comedians. I'm going to become a stand-up comedian. I've got a journal, I've been working on my act.” His voice was gaining confidence the longer they talked, but Arthur had successfully ensnared Bonnie's attention the moment he dropped the name, Dean Martin. 

“Be still my beating heart. I'm a pianist and an occasional vocalist but my best sets are all from the '30s and '40s, I love that style of music and the era, comedy included. I play at the Ice Club. Not the best establishment, I know but they've got an open mic night every Saturday. You should come listen to me play and I'll hang around to hear your jokes. Do you have a favorite or a good one you could tell me now?” They already sounded like a bad joke. A pianist and a comedian walk into a bar...

There was a long silence from Arthur's side of the bench again before she caught the distinct sound of rustling and... pages? Was he looking up the joke? Her mouth twitched upward. Adorable. It brought back memories of trying to write music in braille. 

“Why did... err... no... um...” More flipping pages, more nervous stuttering and while Bonnie was tempted to take back her request because she'd clearly flustered him, another part of her wanted to be patient. She knew intimately what it was like to need that extra second to get her bearings. Maybe no one had ever asked him to share a joke before? The rustling of pages stopped and he made an affirmative noise. “How do you punish a blind person?” Bonnie blinked. Of all the jokes, of all the material he could have written, he chose a blind joke? That was so cheeky, she liked it. Her mouth twitched upwards into a slow smile. 

“I don't know?” Half a question, half raw curiosity, she waited for the punchline. 

“You rearrange the furniture.” He only stumbled once through the delivery and silence followed. For a moment Bonnie was stunned and then contemplative as she considered the practicality of the joke before finally she began to laugh. The longer she thought about it the harder she laughed and apparently her laughter was contagious because the next thing she was aware of was the harsh, cackling laughter of Arthur mirroring her own dulcet tones. They laughed for way longer than was necessary and by the end, half the bus was glaring at them and Bonnie was wiping tears from her eyes. 

“That was excellent. Best joke I've heard in a long time. I needed that so bad today, I can't even tell you.” She used the collar of her shirt to wipe away her tears and rooted around in her purse for her card. “Here. This has my number and the address of the club I work at. Even if you don't want to do open mic night come sit with me sometime. We can sing together. It'll be fun.” The bus screeched to a stop and the station was called over the intercom. It was her stop. She moved to stand, paused and instead lightly squeezed the bicep she'd bumped earlier. “Thank you for making my day Arthur. I'll see you soon yeah?” Her eyes glowed and her smile was genuine, she couldn't see it, but Arthur's was just as wide and ridiculous. 

“It was good to meet you too Bonnie. It makes me happy that I could make you laugh. I'll come by.” Shy again the words were soft and low. 

“Good, I'll hold you to that. Bye Arthur.” Speeding through the crowded aisle before she could piss off the driver again, Bonnie stepped out onto the sidewalk and smiled back up at the bus until she heard the wheeze of the engine as it pulled away. 

Rearrange the furniture. 

There was more to Arthur than just that laugh and Bonnie hoped he would give her the opportunity to see it. She trailed inside, let the girls doll her up and get her in costume before she settled on her bench and began to play with a smile dancing on the edge of her mouth.


	2. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed and left kudos on the first chapter! I wasn't sure how this little muse would be perceived and I'm so glad other people have found enjoyment in it <3 Special thanks to those who review (in no particular order) Alsatian, tardisoftheshire, WetNoodle, OofGetaLoadofThisSociety (marin27), phatpistat, chibiakirachan <3  
With no further ado, please enjoy chapter 2!

Bullets soared above her head whizzing chaotically and Bonnie curled tighter into herself. One of them skimmed her flesh, leaving a burning trail of displaced skin and muscle but her soft cries were dulled by the roar of the firefight. In a fit of brazen boldness, one hand moved away from her head to fumble blindly for her cane. The moment her fingers curled around it, she tucked it against her body feeling obscenely better despite its utter uselessness as a proper defense. The courage faded quickly after that and despite the nearly overwhelming urge to flee, she knew better. She was blind, even if she got to her feet and managed to avoid the spray of bullets, the adrenaline had dulled the rest of her senses and she no longer had any concept of where she was or which direction she was facing.

Minutes that felt like hours dragged by but finally the deafening roar of gunfire stopped and the world fell silent save for a dull ringing that reverberated through her skull. Bonnie didn't move and she continued to repress the natural urge to flee by tightening and relaxing her grip on her cane. She didn't want to draw attention, she wasn't apart of this and the last thing she wanted was some trigger happy fool unloading a barrel into her just because she moved first. There was no indication of what side stood victorious and Bonnie really wasn't keen on either, it was best to just stay down.

Muted footsteps, distorted by the ringing in her ears, informed her that someone was moving closer and the realization squashed any meager hope she had about being left alone. Tentatively she pushed herself up, not wanting to be in such a vulnerable position, but never got the chance, two hands ensnared her upper arms and Bonnie flinched. They belonged to two different people, she could feel the vast size difference but it hardly mattered. The twin grips were an iron shackle that locked in place and hauled her up like she weighed nothing. Bonnie didn't fight. Fighting only ever made it worse. The creaking slide of a van door informed her that it probably wasn't the cops and Bonnie closed her eyes reflexively as she was passed off and pulled into the vehicle. She was dumped on an old bench seat that was worn and smelled of dust. Fearing for her health, she didn't bother fumbling for the rotting seat belt and instead gripped her cane tightly.

"Hey, Dove. You still with me?" The voice was sharp and hard, but edged with curiosity and even though it took her a second to place it, once she did a wave of relief washed over her. It didn't show in the stiffness of her posture but it softened her eyes and the anxious lines of her face. She shifted and shuddered, shaking slightly fro the rush of the adrenaline.

"Penguin?" She wheezed slightly, trying to get her heart rate to settle back into a somewhat manageable rhythm. The irony that she would feel safer in a sketchy van with one of Gotham's most notorious than the police wasn't lost to her. Bonnie was pulled away from her thoughts when she felt the tip of what she presumed was his umbrella prod at her arm, just below the fresh wound. She grimaced as the action caused the pain to bite through the adrenaline and she heard Penguin click his tongue in displeasure

"Uncouth, inbred mongrels." Oswald huffed, shuffled around and snapped his fingers. Instantly, she heard someone else move and gentle fingers began assessing the damage. Bonnie's jerk reaction was to pull away but she'd worked for The Penguin long enough to know his people were professionals, so she sat still and endured in silence as the unknown employee began treating the wound.

"I wouldn't disagree, but I left Gotham's elite hours ago, those were just the cops." A wry, clever smile tugged at her mouth and Penguin chortled a laugh and tapped her foot with the tip of his umbrella.

"Quite right my dear, how very uncultured of me. Forgive my lack of wit." The drawl came heavy and thick, equally coated in sarcasm and despite her discomfort, Bonnie flashed him a smile. For the most part, Penguin was fair but harsh. He expected perfection. Give it to him and he'd take care of you, fuck him over... and you'd wind up in a worse way than when you started and while Bonnie wasn't a criminal, she wasn't exactly a saint either. She did what she needed to do to survive and that involved playing her music for the people who would pay her enough to live. Penguin offered her just that. The Iceberg Lounge was her home. The banquets and fundraisers that hired her were lovely but they didn't come near often enough to pay her rent or to put food in her belly.

"With charm like yours, how couldn't I forgive you?" Bonnie joked but didn't take it any further. She respected Penguin and prickling his pride was an excellent way to turn his pleasant mood foul so she supplemented the good-natured banter with business to change the subject. "I've been working on a new set and I'd like to play it for you when you've got the time? It's a bit more upbeat, fusing old school jazz with ragtime. If you like it, perhaps we can test it on the regulars to ensure it fits the motif?" Everything was a question, never a suggestion, never a command. If he told her no, she accepted and moved on to creating something else. She had ideas and he generally trusted her enough to listen, but Penguin always got the final say with no fuss from her. He was the boss and she respected that. It was arguably why she was still employed and in his good graces. She knew exactly where she stood on the food chain and never tried to rise above that rung simply because she'd been on it awhile.

"Hmm..." The man hummed and Bonnie let out a soft whine as a needle suddenly pierced her flesh and her wound was slowly sutured shut. She silenced herself quickly though. She was lucky enough that Penguin had deemed her worthy of patching up and she wouldn't repay that rare kindness by complaining about a bit of discomfort. "Would Ella Fitzgerald still be gracing your set?" The unspoken threat in those words could have made lesser plebeians quiver but Bonnie had to take a minute to fight through the pain before she could even consider the question. She reached out, aiming to set a hand on Penguin's sleeve. It was more to distract herself than anything else and she'd done such gestures before when he sat with her at the piano. She took a deep breath to steady her thoughts. He was asking about business and she would focus.

"Always. I would never disgrace the Iceberg by neglecting the Queen of Jazz herself. There's a fair amount of her material sprinkled in." A knowing smile, because she'd learned what Oswald liked and she custom built her sets not only to suit the Iceberg Lounge but also to suit her boss. Another hum, this time of approval and she could hear him shuffling about.

"Excellent. I'll listen Thursday at noon... if he brings you back by then." There was an amused darkness to those words and Bonnie's heart skipped a beat. She knew very much who HE was and she wasn't all that sure she liked the sound of going somewhere for an unforeseen amount of time. Even still, she hid it, attempting to sit poised even as the medic continued to dress her wound.

"Brings me back?" Tentative, unsure, the question fell from her tongue with poise but not without mild concern. Penguin chuckled, his demeanor becoming far more sinister. Bonnie was grateful she didn't have to endure this side of him often.

"The Joker, dear Dove, he's the one who told me all about the little escapade orchestrated by the police, he's also the one who hired me to ensure you lived and they didn't." Sadistic, the words dripped with an unadulterated pleasure that made her flinch. Penguin chuckled at the display and for once she didn't chastise herself over a display of weakness. Bonnie didn't like the notion of death or the coppery tang of blood. It took her right back to the day she lost her eyes. A violent shudder slithered down her spine and she turned her head. "That's not to say I wouldn't have come. You're worth much more to me alive than dead... and I know quite a few patrons who would miss your dulcet tones." Penguin drawled and she could feel his black eyes boring into her, hunting for the nerve. She swallowed harshly. "But I do so love indulging the chink in Joker's armor. Enamored. He just can't seem to leave you alone eh?" The words were meant to chill her and to a degree, they succeeded.

"Me? It must be my snarky charm, my lovely eyes and my choice of designer clothes." The words were meant to be a rumbling jest, but they came out shaky. She tried too hard to hide her discomfort and Oswald most assuredly didn't miss it. He chuckled softly but didn't reply and Bonnie settled in, frowning when the car rumbled to a stop. There was no noise except... the ocean? She swore she could hear waves and that coupled with the salt in the air confirmed it. She listened as the various doors opened and shut before meekly following.

The cold air sunk into the torn seams of her dress and she wrapped her arms around herself, cane tapping quietly against the wooden planks to her right. The docks then. What in the hell was she doing at the docks?

"She's damaged." A cold, toneless voice echoed some distance away and Bonnie jumped and got the keen sense that she was little more than livestock being appraised.

"And she's fixed." Penguin sneered. "I can't control the idiocy of Gotham's finest."

"J won't be pleased." Same tone, same flat response and Bonnie began to feel more and more uneasy. Perhaps she should have taken her chances in prison.

"The Joker is welcome to come fetch his own play things next time. Give me my money or I take her back with me. Either way, I win. He's lucky I'm willing to give her a few 'sick days' to help her get over her traumatic experience." Penguin was not one to be intimidated and Bonnie was beginning to feel like an observer who didn't belong. There was another bout of silence and then the sound of something sliding across the wood. Her heart pounded as the sound of a zipper filled her ears and then Penguin chuckled. "Nice doing business with you boys. Tell your boss not to tarnish her pretty face, hmm?" Retreating footsteps moved back towards the van while new, foreign gaits headed towards her.

She supposed she should feel betrayed but... it was just good business. Could she fault him for making what she presumed was thousands off a single act when it strengthened bonds between Gotham's underworld? She'd chosen to work for the Penguin, this was part of that. She had no one to blame but herself. The footsteps stopped in front of her and Bonnie trembled her grip on her cane tightening. As foolish as it was she was prepared to swing it and run if things turned violent. The not knowing what or who was coming at her was the worst. Something rustled, there was a whoosh of air and then a hard smack against the back of her skull. Bonnie briefly had time to realize she'd been struck before she slumped forward and spiraled into unconsciousness.

Her fingers tickled the ivory keys in a rolling, light melody. It was a slow night and her job wasn't to steal the spotlight, it was just to create a lovely backdrop for casual conversation. While she preferred to sing a set of her favorite old songs, these nights were equally fun. She could compose easy melodies or experiment with a slowed down version of ragtime and see what kind of mixed reactions she would get. Sometimes patrons wandered up with compliments or a request and sometimes she got hissed at. Music was malleable, equal parts successful experimentation and disaster. It was controlled chaos that could only be warped into a measure of tameness by a skilled hand but even then it was a finicky mistress. The night wound down and even once her boss called it quits and slowly rounded the patrons out the door, Bonnie kept playing, it wasn't until boots hit her stage that the small blonde finally stopped.

"Lost in the music again eh?" The old Italian chuckled and Bonnie flushed only slightly embarrassed as the older man came around the piano to join her on the bench. "My wife's the same way, only she isn't any good which makes living with her insufferable." The words were harsh, but Bonnie could hear the teasing lit in his voice. An indignant squawk echoed from the bar telling both of them that his wife had very much heard the insult and Burcelli roared with laughter. Bonnie put her hands up in mock surrender.

"Oh no, I'm not getting dragged into this one again. Fool me once-" Bonnie trailed off and this time both of them laughed at her expense.

"What's a matta' Bonnie, you don't want me to come up there and play sax with you?" Lucinda hollered from the bar and while Bonnie's mouth thinned, betraying her displeasure, she smiled sweetly all the same.

"Oh... anytime Lu." She murmured back, playing along even though she knew it was all a big tease. Thankfully Burcelli saved her.

"Hey love, we're not trying to run the business into the ground, you stay behind the bar and let Bonnie run the stage, yeah?" There was a bit more banter that trailed effortlessly between them before the jokes simmered down and Burcelli turned more serious eyes back to Bonnie.

"We're getting ready to close up shop... you gonna stay and play awhile longer?" The question may as well have been rhetorical and at the bright smile that spanned Bonnie's face, the old Italian just rolled his eyes. "Why do I even ask." He muttered and pressed a few scattered keys. Bonnie winced as he butchered the melody but didn't voice her displeasure. Music was an art and as much as she adored her boss, he couldn't play for shit.

"You ask on the off chance you ever get to lock up your own lounge again." Bonnie quipped, a wry smile tilting the edge of her mouth. Burcelli started laughing and reached over, ruffling her hair affectionately. Bonnie swatted him off. "Has Penguin still been ghosting around?" Curious, she'd only just become aware of the mobster but apparently, it was the wrong question to ask because the playfulness of the atmosphere swiftly turned sour.

"Bah, don't you worry your pretty little head, what's he gonna do, waddle towards ya?" Burcelli brushed away her concern but rose, pacing back across the stage. She'd heard the rumors, heard that Penguin owned this stretch of town and if something of interest caught his eye about this place... there was nothing anybody could do. That old world mob shit was something Bonnie had never seen but the very presence of the man sent a shiver rippling down her spine. How did anyone live like that?

"You worry too little Burcelli, but go on, get your wife home and buy her flowers... or maybe just a new mouthpiece for her sax." A wicked smile and the Italian huffed throwing up his arms even as his wife laughed and locked up the liquor.

"Women! Unspoken rules! Always fighting against me!" His voice trailed through the bar and Bonnie could hear him gathering his things. His wife consoled him but Bonnie just smiled and turned back to her piano. "We'll lock up behind, make sure you're safe. If it's too late just sleep in the lounge. Don't walk home from this shit hole after one yes?" There was concern in his voice, genuine in its delivery and Bonnie smiled.

"Sure thing dad." She laughed and the words were followed by more huffing before she returned to her piano. The door clicked shut and she heard the telltale sign of a lock, her cue to start playing again.

For an hour or so, she stumbled through new songs, tried different variations of her current sets and made mental notes to try a few new things next weekend. The beginnings of sleepiness were beginning to catch up to her though and the small blonde opted to call it a night. She gathered up her things, shut off the lights, slipped out the back door and almost jumped out of her skin when fingers touched her sleeve.

"I'm sorry." A giggle that morphed into a harsh laugh. "I didn't mean to scare you." Wheezed through bits of laughter it only took her a second to place that timid voice.

"Arthur? What are you doing here so late? The Lounge closed over an hour ago and mic night isn't until Saturday." Bonnie frowned, arms folding over her chest to stave off the cold. Even if he'd seemed kind and relatively harmless yesterday, she was still uneasy about being accosted so late at night. A heavy silence followed her inquiry and she could hear Arthur fidgeting.

"I... err..." He tried and stuttered, stumbling over his words for a moment. "It was a long day at work and you said yesterday you needed a joke. I thought you might need another." The words were soft and carried a genuine quality that was hard to fake. Bonnie blinked, her expression softening slightly, she still didn't know how much she trusted this virtual stranger but something about him was just pure, like the malice in the world hadn't gotten to him yet.

"It's past midnight and you came all the way here to... tell me a joke?" Incredulous and more than a little curious she canted her head at him. Arthur nodded eagerly but quickly realized she couldn't see it and swallowed to find his voice.

"Yes." A simple affirmation with no further context. Bonnie bit her lip but couldn't stop the smile. She didn't like to categorize herself as naive but there was something about Arthur she just genuinely enjoyed. It was hard for her to find a reason to not trust him.

"Alright, let's hear a good one." Bonnie rumbled after a minute and this time the reply came fast.

"A blind man walks into a bar... and then the table and then the chair." There was a wry, cleverness to the words and Bonnie was sensing a theme. Blind jokes? Would she get a new one every time she saw him? The thought didn't make her sad, instead, she smiled and a light chuckle pulled from her chest.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you think I'm graceless." Bonnie quipped, amusement coloring the words and while Arthur barked another ill-timed laugh, he vehemently shook his head.

"No, no, well, you did sprawl out across the bus face first when we met." The words were shockingly honest and Bonnie's brow shot up to her hairline. There was a beat of silence and then she found it was her turn to burst into untimely laughter.

"Touche." She rumbled once she settled back down and the silence that settled between them was oddly comfortable. Bonnie gnawed her bottom lip, debating for a moment and then settled on fuck it. "Would you...like to see the Lounge? Technically I'm not supposed to let anyone in after hours but I won't get in trouble and I did promise you a song." This was wild and foolish, she barely knew this man and yet... she couldn't bring herself to regret asking. \

"If it won't get you in trouble, I would love too." Timid and shy again, his voice lost its confidence but Bonnie simply nodded, unlocked the door and once she felt him breeze inside, she followed. She took a moment to re-lock the door and flip on the lights, using her cane to glide between the booths and tables and back towards the stage.

"See? I didn't walk into the bar, the tables or the chairs." Bonnie quipped and was answered with a laugh... a real one this time, devoid of all his nervous anxiety. She paused to listen but opted not to call him out on it. "If you're thirsty you'll have to settle for soda or water. The liquor gets locked up at night but help yourself." Bonnie hummed. If her boss said anything she'd just tell him she got thirsty brainstorming and to put it on her tab. She wasn't so broke that she couldn't afford a soda.

She waited until Arthur got settled before taking her place behind the piano. She rolled her shoulders and was surprised to hear his shoes hit the stage. He didn't join her, instead, it sounded like he sat on the floor directly in front of the piano more like a child at an assembly. She had no idea what he looked like beyond the long slender fingers that had grasped her own on the bus but she hoped he was sitting cross-legged with a big smile pulled across his face. It would match the image of him she had in her head.

"Any requests?" She intoned and found herself growing accustomed to the silences between Arthur's replies.

"No. Just something that sounds beautiful." His tone was a bit breathless and Bonnie found herself taken aback. She'd offered to perform more for fun but he sounded genuinely excited. All her typical, snarky choices fell to the wayside instantly and she considered for a moment before she settled on a far more modern piece.

"Beautiful... come sit next to me then. It's a composition meant to be shared called Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi. Have you ever heard it?" It had lyrics, but Bonnie wouldn't sing it. To her, it was much more beautiful without the vocals. She heard Arthur shuffle around for a moment and then the bench creaked as he sat next to her. Despite the proximity, he didn't touch her, not even the smallest brush and with how small the bench was, he must be going through pains to give her space. For some reason that broke her heart, how harshly had he been used to be so conscientious of the smallest, most unregistered touch? Bonnie slowly reached for his arm. Her fingers found the worn material of his shirt and slowly she looped her arm through his. She felt him tense so hard that his muscles trembled and she froze, wondering if she'd read him wrong. "Is this okay?" She whispered, her voice low as a few nervous bursts of laughter ripped from his chest.

"No, yes... no... I mean...ah" He stuttered blindly and she made to retract her arm when he tightened his elbow to his side, effectively trapping her. She sucked in a sharp breath. "Stay. Please." A whisper, so quiet and broken that Bonnie had to close her eyes against it. She was suddenly grateful that she was blind so that she wouldn't have to visualize his struggle. It took him a long minute to calm down and relax but finally she shifted closer so she could keep their arms locked while her fingers found the keys.

"I'll stay. Just listen, okay?" A fragile whisper and while he didn't respond, she felt the way he relaxed. Taking that as her cue, she began the song. The introduction was slow, elongated notes that spun a sound of darkness and depression. Arthur shifted, moving constantly as the low keys encircled them with the melancholic sound but he never jostled her arm. A few bursts of laughter teased the air but nothing that harshly disrupted the melody. About a minute in, the song broke, a soft pause, before she continued to press the ivory keys and the tone of the song began to morph.

Hope was introduced in a scattering of keys, a sense of whimsy and light instead of haunting despair and that feeling only grew as the song continued. Halfway through, Arthur began to laugh, a wheezing, broken sound that seemed to directly contradict the uplifting melody. As the positive annotation of the melody continued upward, Arthur laughed harder until she felt his forehead press against her shoulder and something wet soaked into her sleeve. He wasn't laughing, he was crying. The sweet, uplifting melody was meant to inspire and yet... his arm slipped from hers only to encircle her waist, pulling her closer as he began to wheeze and cough. Her own eyes, useless as they were, filled with heartbreak as his long, too skinny fingers clutched at her blouse with the desperation of a man long since broken. Bonnie kept playing, allowing the last few chords to die out before she slowly moved to embrace him back.

"Thank you." He wheezed, rocking gently now. "I needed that more than you needed my joke today.",He was still trying to make light of himself and Bonnie let out a teary chuckle and smoothed her fingers along a protruding spine in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. Just how thin was he?

"You're welcome." She murmured back and just held him. They stayed like that for a long time, saying a whole lot with no words at all, but finally, he let her go and Bonnie pulled back. "Arthur?" Bonnie intoned and waited for the preemptive moment for Arthur to speak.

"Yes?" Soft and low, a lost child.

"Come back tomorrow. You can sit next to me while I play my set." It was impulsive but Bonnie felt a bond with this man. Something precious, something she hadn't felt in a very long time. She fumbled for his hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. "I'm still new to the city and... maybe we can be friends?" She wasn't the most socially adept person either but there was just something about him that she didn't want to walk away from. He squeezed her fingers back tightly, so tight it almost bordered on painful.

"I... would like that." Soft but filled with a rare hope, Arthur's voice was different and Bonnie smiled. They didn't speak anymore as she closed down the Lounge, but Arthur never let go of her hand. Down the street, up the rickety staircase of her apartment building and all the way to her door. He didn't let her go until she was inside and safe. Only then did he smile, only then did he step back so she could get ready for sleep. He glanced down at his hand, it was still warm and it smelled like her. Through the cheap walls, he could hear the soft tapping of her cane as she navigated her apartment. A friend, his first friend. Mama would be so happy.


	3. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, this story has gotten so much love, my heart bursts with affection <3 Thank you to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed and left kudos for this little muse train. It means so much that people enjoy what I write and as always please enjoy the next installment! ^^ Super special appreciation and love for everyone that reviewed! (In no particular order) Stellaxoxo ,ennathecookiemonster, leuzi, AdvocadoToast, Beans, sansviolet, kneel4loki and Maria! You guys are so incredibly awesome for leaving me words of encouragement, kindness and love. This chapter is dedicated to you <3

Bonnie was aware of nothing but the rhythmic pounding in her skull and like an erratic drumbeat, it pulled her out of consciousness with the sheer stubborn tenacity of its existence. An involuntary groan was pulled from her vocal cords and she shifted, a hand lifting to touch the tender wound on the back of her skull where she'd been struck. She immediately drew her hand back with a hiss of pain and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. A few deep breaths and she tried to focus on what was around her instead of the pain.

The first thing she registered was the feel of silk tangled haplessly around her legs and her breath caught. Oswald paid her well but not well enough to spend thousands of dollars on luxury sheets. These weren't her blankets and by default, this couldn't be her bed. Gingerly she pushed herself up, moving slowly so she wouldn't agitate her throbbing skull while her hands moved to feel out her surroundings. Beyond the sheets, she could feel the sturdiness of a hard oak headboard but all that did was confirm what she already knew. This place, wherever it was, wasn't home.

Bonnie leaned forward and crawled over to the edge of the mattress, ignoring the agonizing throb in her skull and stuck her arms out, feeling around for her cane. It wasn't there and genuine panic began to set in as everything came rushing back to her. Gordon, the police, Penguin coming to her aide, the docks and then... blackness. He'd said something about the Joker orchestrating her harrowing escape but then her mind went blank. Was this one of the Penguin's hideouts or had the trade-off actually happened? She was startled from her musings when something knocked into the palm of her hand. Thin, hard and hollow she knew the feel of her cane anywhere. Her fingers tightened on it reflexively and there was a brief moment of resistance before whoever was offering it to her released their end. Her face twisted in embarrassed anger and she opened her mouth to speak when a burst of uncharacteristic, dark laughter sparked a harsh sensation of memory. She knew that laugh and now that she was concentrating, she could smell him too.

"You...uh... haven't changed. Not. One. Bit." The words were sharp, exaggerated. Every syllable was well thought out and calculated, but he still carried a hint of the shy boy she'd met years ago. She could hear him in the way he paused and used now familiar filler words. Bonnie didn't relax though, while she may have trusted Arthur, she knew nothing of the Joker or his intentions. To him, she was just another face in an endless sea of fodder and she was too smart to think she was special.

"Mmm, that's not entirely true, I play Fur Elise with a bit more finesse now and I've added quite a bit of Dean Martin to my repertoire." The quip was low and unsure in tone. She wouldn't pretend like she didn't know him, but she held back her usual enthusiasm. If he failed to find the words amusing, she had no desire to push him into violence. Apparently her worries were for not because a low, bemused chuckle curled through the air in a drawl. Bonnie shifted, sliding her cane between her knees and taking comfort as it came in contact with the floor.

"Is that so? Was that the... encore... Gotham's finest were goading you for?" Curious but dark, the questions felt loaded even though they sounded innocent in delivery.

"I don't play encores for people who aren't my friends." Quiet and low, she answered him almost immediately and an appreciative hum emerged from the opposite side of the room. He remembered. She wasn't sure if she should feel warm or just anxious. Not for the first time, Arthur successfully confused her.

There was a creak, ominous in juxtaposition to the quiet atmosphere that engulfed them and a moment later the sound of his footsteps followed. Bonnie bristled, body wire tense as the bed moved and shifted, accommodating a second body. She didn't turn her head, what was the point? She couldn't see him. Fingers curled around her chin and turned her head for her. Bonnie didn't resist if the news was anywhere near accurate he'd killed people for a hell of a lot less.

"Why?" A sinister drawl, almost a growl. "Why didn't you tell the police or Officer Gordon everything you know about me?" Punctuated and sharp, Arthur had taken his strange method of speech and transformed it into something truly intimidating. Terrifying. Bonnie trembled and licked her lips out of nervous habit.

"You were good to me." It was raw honesty colored by fear but Bonnie made a point not to lie. It was a hard limit for her and Arthur knew that. His fingers tightened against her skin and she could feel each digit threatening to bruise her jaw as they pressed against her gums and teeth. She whimpered and the Joker loosened his hold instantly. "We were friends. We were something special."

"Friend?" The word was cold and mocking, he was spitting on her sentiment and as a cackle bubbled up from his chest, a surge of anger gave her courage. Bonnie's eyes narrowed and she shoved his arm off of her.

"Not the first time I've lost intellectual objectivity where you're concerned." Bonnie snapped, hurt and wounded by his cruelty. It was a mistake. His fingers coiled around her throat this time and he threw her back onto the bed. Her cane clattered to the floor as he squeezed until she gasped, useless eyes wide and hands clawing at his forearms.

"And it won't be the last." Joker snarled and she could feel his breath wafting across her face. His whole body pinned her down and he hoovered so close she could almost taste him. "You know why Bonnie girl?" It was rhetorical, he was squeezing her throat too tight for her to answer. "Because you're different. A freak. Just like me." Sharp and cold, he'd lost all warmth and familiarity. Abruptly he let her go and she scrambled to get out from under him. Back pedaling until her shoulder slammed into the headboard, Bonnie wheezed and sucked in several ragged breaths. She pulled her knees up to her chest and blocked her face with her hands. She couldn't see. Wasn't that punishment enough? Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she ducked her face to hide them but she would be denied even that humane privacy.

Lithe fingers curled around her wrists, pulling them away from her face and she fought him but he shushed her, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He trapped both of her delicate wrists in one hand and tenderly brushed the moisture away from the corners of her eyes with the other. Bonnie flinched, shuddering violently but still his touch remained gentle, reverent even.

"At, ta ta ta! Shhh... no tears." It managed to be both chastisement and comfort. She sniffled once more but obeyed him, blind eyes shifting uselessly in their sockets. "It's okay, Bonnie Girl, ya know why?" He rumbled in a half growl. Bonnie answered with a soft, involuntary sound, a cross between a whimper and a distressed noise but Joker had fallen silent, he was waiting for her to answer. Bonnie shook her head once and swallowed hard, hating the way it now hurt to do so.

"N-No." She flinched at the stutter, God she sounded so weak."No. I don't." Everyone got to have moments and to be fair she had justification to be afraid. The Clown Prince of Crime was not known for charity and orphan parties.

"Because I'm not gonna kill ya for it, I'm gonna keep ya." Dark and cold, the words lacked any kind of real feeling. It was like he was stating a fact. Bonnie's blood turned to ice in her veins.

"Keep me?" Meek but confused she echoed the words and was met with that harsh, cackling laugh. It startled her and she jumped but she didn't try to get away this time. She was a fast learner and this was Arthur's show, not hers.

"Yes, Bonnie girl. You're smart so don't... uh... make me repeat myself." Sharp but punctuated by soft fits of giggles, the outburst betrayed how much danger that put her in. She opened her mouth to speak when he covered her mouth with his hand. "He, ha, ho, easy girl. You can still...play... in Oswald's little hovel of a joint and you can still do... whatever it is Bonnie's do, but when I want to drag you out of my toy box to play, you'll be there or here rather. I don't like hunting down my toys and you... Bonnie Girl... have always been my favorite. It's time I brushed the dust off and brought you back into the spotlight." He cackled, laughing harshly and Bonnie... Bonnie had no idea what any of that even meant.

"Where is here?" Of all the pertinent questions... that was the one her stupid lizard brain blurted. Intelligent her ass. Joker seemed amused.

"Deep in territory Gordon and his little lackeys dare not go." A growl, low and dangerous. "Not unless they want to lose pieces and more. You'll be safe here." That last sentence was tacked on like an afterthought but Bonnie breathed out a deep breath. "A driver will take you to The Icecube... errrr... Iceberg." Joker grinned and cackled again. Bonnie was willing to be it hadn't been a mistake. "I believe the words you're looking for is thank you, hmm?" He was close again, close enough that she could feel his body heat and the warm caress of his breath. She shuddered and forced herself to swallow.

"Thank you." She murmured and he cackled, and got up, sauntering across the room with exaggerated footsteps. Bonnie's heart raced as she heard the click of a window. He was leaving, leaving her here in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar part of town. "Why?" Bonnie suddenly blurted, unfurling herself and crawling towards the edge of the bed, childishly she reached down, refusing to step down off the mattress until she had her cane in hand to guide her. She grabbed the cane and dragged it back, shifting around to put her feet on the floor when she realized the room had gone silent.

For a long minute she'd assumed he'd already slipped out the window when she heard his footsteps trailing back to her. Regret filled her, she shouldn't have asked, she should have just left well enough alone- He grabbed her free hand, uncurled her fingers and put a small object in her palm. Instinctively she maneuvered it, creating an image in her head from her dexterity alone. It felt... like a flip phone. One flick of her nail, the thing popped open and she could feel the braille that translated to numbers. Bonnie gasped surprised and then jumped when he shut it and forced her fingers to squeeze it tight.

"Voice-activated. There are only two contacts. Use it for only one of those two contacts." His voice had changed, from wild and unpredictably chaotic to utterly serious. "The first is me. You need to uh... get ahold of me... you ask for 'Me'. The second is OIYAD. Say them both. Now." A growl, Bonnie didn't hesitate. She spoke the word 'Me' and rattled off the seemingly random abbreviation of numbers. Joker grunted seemingly satisfied but squeezed her wrist nearly to the point of pain. "That stands for 'Only If You're Dying' and I mean it Bonnie Girl... only if you're dying because if you're not, I will make you regret it." There was a promise of violence in those words and Bonnie swallowed but nodded. "Good."

She heard him move away again and exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You see me." Softer, quieter and almost vulnerable, the words made her brows furrow in confusion. "You... uh... asked me why." A growl and understanding blossomed across her face. "You don't have eyes but you've always seen me, even when no one else could. I like that. I really, really do." He didn't give her a chance to respond. She heard the window slide shut, heard him lock it and could tell he was gone. The oppressive atmosphere was gone and even though all he'd really done was leave her with more questions than answers, she was accustomed to being alone with her swirling thoughts.

She was late. Mother of all that was holy and good... she could spin a sonata that could make the world cry but for the utter life of her, she couldn't manage to get out the door before she was forced to hustle. Again. Mentally berating herself in a tone that sounded suspiciously like her father, she went for the stairs. She didn't have time to wait for the elevator to glitch and jam on the third floor. Using a mixture of her cane and the handrail, she whipped down the steps with practiced ease and shouldered open the door at the bottom, halfway spilling into the alleyway.

"Woah there doll, ya don't wanna take a header do ya?" Lenny's grumble of a voice rasped against her ears and she smiled brightly as he steadied her, one hand on each shoulder.

"Oh Lenny, where would I be without you? Lost in a hurricane of dreadful road rash and bruises. I've got... a snickers bar and a fresh bag of strawberries. Think I can afford to keep you on retainer just one more day?" Innocently she presented the sealed Ziploc bag of goodies and Lenny made a happy sound.

"Ya drive a hard bargain miss and it's cruel to bribe a man with caramel. Playin' dirty that is." Lenny sighed dramatically but plucked the items from her hand. This was their ritual, had been for the better part of seven months. He took care of her and she took care of him in their own limited fashion. Bonnie giggled, rocked onto her toes and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"You're a doll Lenny. Go on up and get outta this cold for a spell. Take a bath if ya need, I left the door open for ya." Bonnie rumbled with a smile. This was the extent of Bonnie's deviousness. Lenny was too proud to ever accept her offer but if she left the door unlocked in this sketchy part of town, the ex-marine couldn't stop himself from going up to check.

"Damn it Bon! You can't be doing that 'round these parts!" He admonished her but Bonnie just laughed and sped off, waving over her shoulder as she trotted down the sidewalk. Her cane knocked against the familiar structure that encompassed the bus stop bench just as the screech of harsh breaks filled her ears. She quickly shuffled into the line and moved up the stairs. Depositing her money, she moved slowly down the aisle, biting her lip. This was now a familiar ritual wherein her heart fluttered and a smile teased the edge of her mouth as she waited for the signal.

Was Arthur on this bus or was he on the last? Had she missed him because she was always cutting it close or was he hiding among the throng of- the gentlest of tugs, alerted her to the fact that someone was touching her cane and Bonnie smiled. She knew that tug. Swinging to the right, she effortlessly slipped into the outer seat and laughed softly as she felt the familiar hard edges of Arthur's frame brush against her side. He giggled covering his mouth to stifle the noise and Bonnie grinned wildly, turning her head to give the illusion she was looking at him.

"Good morning Arthur." Warm and gentle, she giggled softly so he wouldn't be laughing alone. She'd long since grown accustomed to his condition and instead of scoffing or seeing it as something needing to be fixed, she rolled with it. What was wrong with a little more laughter in this world? "Did you have breakfast this morning?" Her tone carried the barest hint of warning and she could feel him fidgeting uncomfortably. That was answer enough for her and she rooted around in her bag.

"Good morning Bonnie... and... no, I was too focused on my mom today." Soft and almost admonished, it was obvious he didn't want to disappoint her. He was a bit like a puppy that way and Bonnie made sure to keep smiling, so he would know she wasn't upset. A moment later she pulled out a sandwich. Roast beef with a hint of Dijon mustard.

"Lucky you, I made the mistake of making two sandwiches instead of one. Won't you have it? I'd hate for it to go bad..." She frowned as though perplexed by her dilemma but smiled when Arthur quickly plucked it out of her hand. A sandwich might not cure his borderline emaciation, but at least it was some measure of calories he was consuming. "So tell me, what's on the menu for today? Children's party? Another hospital gig?"She leaned against his side, resting her head against his shoulder. He didn't bristle anymore and instead, he slipped an arm around her shoulders to keep her anchored there. It was sweet, the kind of familial touch almost everyone shied from nowadays but... it made her happy and Arthur never seemed put off by her proximity. She couldn't see, touch was all she had and Arthur seemed to understand that.

"Uh... no, not those. The grand opening of a local mall... somewhere near the police station, I think. All of us are going, we're supposed to make balloon animals and to...ah... tell a few jokes. Nothing exciting." Soft and low, he turned his head to bury his nose in her hair. She could hear him gently inhale, like he was savoring the scent for a moment before he pulled away. Bonnie wriggled.

"But that is exciting! You wanted to be more vocal out there. Practicing your jokes in front of kids is the best way to show your boss you can do it. Picture it like a grand audition, a dozen spotlights blinding you, an audience waiting on baited breath so you take a deep breath and slay them all with the best joke." Perhaps she was being a touch ridiculous, but her silly words drew a giggle from Arthur, genuine this time and he shifted again, fingers tightening reflexively on her shoulder in an effort not to jostle her.

"Hmm..." He hummed contemplatively and shook his head, she could feel stringy bits of his hair dusting her cheek. "Which jokes should I tell? I don't want to be... inappropriate... like the laughter." She could hear the trepidation and pain in his voice but Bonnie refused to let him recede.

"Arthur...It was just one overzealous mom who would have found a reason to complain whether you gave her one or not. Some people are just like that. You can't let them get to you. I like all of your jokes and I count for something ya?" She tilted her head back at him, smiling upside down at where she presumed his face was. "And as for the jokes, stick to the animal ones. Pages... 5 through 6 in your book I think?" She tilted her head childishly and she heard him suck in a breath. The silence stretched between them for a long minute but slowly, ever so slowly, she felt his fingers trace her jaw before tucking a stray strand of blonde locks behind her ear.

"Why... why are people like that?" A whisper, quiet and soft, he bent his head down toward her, mouth hoovering above her forehead.

"I don't know. Maybe because the world is sad and the only way some people know how to deal with it is to lash out." Her response was equally quiet and earnest. He absorbed the words and let them percolate in his soul before finally closing his eyes. She was safe. It was a word he'd only ever associated with his mother until her. The companionable silence settled for a long moment until he sighed softly.

"How did you know those jokes were on pages 5 through 6?" Innocent curiosity trickled in his tone and Bonnie grinned.

"A lady never reveals her secrets." She offered the teasing rumble and Arthur huffed softly.

"You can't see." Incredibly dry, the sarcasm was genuine and it was Bonnie's turn to burst into laughter. A few people grunted in distaste at her outburst but Bonnie promptly ignored them and shook her head.

"I hear them. You turn the pages softly but they're so worn I can hear them crackling. You have them categorized." Bonnie answered in a bemused tone and Arthur blinked, surprised that she'd even paid attention. She saw him and it never failed to astound him. No one ever really saw him. The silence stretched for a beat longer than a typical lull in conversation.

"I'll try the animal jokes then. Makes sense, kids like animals right?" Hopeful now, the assignment for the day didn't seem all that daunting. Bonnie bobbed her head.

"Yup, most of em do anyway. Any of them that say otherwise are probably lying." Bonnie chuckled and Arthur frowned, confused. If you liked something why lie? It was probably a simple answer, something that mama said blew in one ear and out the other but he'd pestered her with enough questions. His eyes shifted to the sandwich. It was one of many she'd 'accidentally' made two of but... hers always tasted better than when he made them. Warmer somehow. The thought made him smile and he looked back at her.

"Would you like your joke for the day?" Timid and shy, he never could ask the question with confidence but Bonnie smiled all the same.

"Yes please." Her response was immediate. Arthur shifted to get his book out of his bag. He flipped through it to her section, now conscientious of how he turned the pages, and cleared his throat.

"Why don't blind people... go skydiving?" He kept his finger on the joke, so he wouldn't lose his place while he glanced at her and awaited her reaction. Bonnie cocked her head, considered, but ultimately shook her head. Arthur smiled. "Because it scares the dog too much." He whispered and she giggled, foggy blue eyes lighting up with mirth. She opened her mouth to speak when the bus creaked and came to a halt. The static announcement hailed Bonnie's stop and she gave him an apologetic look. Arthur's heart plummeted when she wriggled to stand up. He hated this part, watching her leave. She was kind to him, he liked her, but he was always waiting for the day she'd walk away and never come back.

Bonnie got as far as standing before Arthur abruptly reached out and caught her wrist. Bonnie paused, sightless eyes starring somewhere over his left shoulder. Even now she didn't look at him with annoyance or exasperation... just curiosity and expectancy. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You are." He whispered and she furrowed her brow, confusion contorting her face into a perplexed expression. Arthur hesitated and instinctively tightened his grip on her. "You asked if you count for something. You...um... do." He wheezed out, licking his lips in nervous anticipation but instead of looking disgusted or creeped out, she smiled with a beautiful vibrancy that stole his breath. She squeezed his wrist in return.

"You count to Arthur. Never think otherwise." Her voice was gentled and soft but the words warmed parts of him that he didn't know he had... so he burst out laughing, cackling so hard that tears trickled down his face. Nearly everyone on the bus turned to stare but Arthur couldn't bring himself to care. His eyes were fixated on Bonnie's retreating frame as she navigated down the aisle and stepped off the bus.

Arthur pushed himself up, still bursting out with wheezing trickles of laughter as he moved to the back of the bus and wriggled into a space so he could see out the back window. He pressed his face up against the glass, watching her until she was lost to the dark streets of Gotham but even then he slumped in the dirty seat still giggling.

He pulled out his laminated card, rolling it between his fingers as he struggled to stop laughing but unlike normal he didn't pass it to the people around him because... he didn't care. He wasn't laughing out of an impulse or some skewed instinct, he was laughing because he was happy. i And for today... that was enough.


End file.
